


something about trust

by dickaeopolis (dicaeopolis)



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Emotional Sex, F/M, Femdom, Puppy Play, kinda? overtones of it at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dickaeopolis
Summary: "Say that again.""You mean... 'Your Majesty'?""Thatreallyworks for me.""Yeah?"





	something about trust

**Author's Note:**

> apparently all i can write lately is porn? w/e I watched Jupiter Ascending for the first time last semester and I've never gotten attached to a character as quickly as I did to Caine Wise
> 
> this is also a little bit of a love letter, you know who you are

“Good boy,” Jupiter croons.

Arousal drips down Caine’s chest, hot and sweaty and thick.

His knees are aching against the bedroom floor, and Jupiter’s hands are cool and smooth under his chin. His hands are bound tightly in a box-tie behind his back, Jupiter’s voice soothing and liquid around his ears.

“Come here,” she murmurs. Caine scoots forward, blind and clumsy, following the gentle guidance of her hands. Her thighs are around his ears then, and he’s bending his neck even before she presses his head down.

“Ah,” she sighs. “Mmm - oh…” The noises slide over Caine’s back, caress his vertebrae one by one.

When Jupiter first asked him to do things like this - Caine hadn’t really known what he expected. Whips and chains and the harsh crack of humiliating words, maybe. In another life, that might’ve even been what he _wanted._ Instead, Jupiter Jones had taken him by the hand and tied his wrists together like she fastened the clasps on her most delicate necklaces. And Caine had lain there, motionless save for the faintest tremble of his chest, as she touched him.

“Come here, puppy,” Jupiter tells him. Her voice is barely half a breath. It takes a moment for Caine’s haze of arousal to realize that she’s tugging him up. He stands as quickly as he can, feet and calves prickling as blood flows back into them.

Jupiter is hugging him, a trace of her usual awkward candor showing through her sure confidence. She’s still sitting at the edge of the bed - her breasts press against the tops of Caine’s thighs, and when she draws back, her thumbs smooth down his hipbones, her lips press briefly against his stomach.

Caine is quivering.

“Lie down,” she whispers. She stands up, turns.

If someone had punched him in the stomach, Caine wouldn’t have even swayed. If the order to lie flat had been screamed at him, he would have snarled back rebellion without hesitation.

“Lie down,” Jupiter whispers again, and pushes at his stomach lightly, with the tips of her fingers.

Caine falls backwards - crumples.

He can feel her following him - the dips of the bed beneath her weight, the brushes of her legs as she moves up his body. She presses firm hands up his thighs, pauses to cup his cock in her hands. Caine’s breath sucks into his lungs. He’s silent - he usually is, strict military training at work even in bed - but he’s sure Jupiter catches the halt of his breath.

“Caine,” she tells him,” you’re doing so well for me, so, so well…” Her hands wrap around his erection, small fingers and soft palms and a firm grip as she strokes him off. His hips start lifting up off the bed, and she kisses lightly at his chest. “Caine, I’m going to stop now, okay?”

Caine can’t speak. He nods once, jerkily.

She strokes him one last, slow time, and then draws away. Caine can’t help his tiny whimper - but she doesn’t touch him again, and he doesn’t want her to. His queen has made her decision, after all.

Instead, she strokes up his chest, tracing the taut strain of his muscles. Her hands pause at the base of his neck, the hollow dip of his collarbone. Her thumb is gentle against the press of his heartbeat.

“Caine,” she says, and he hears the question. She’s only seen a fraction of the battles where there have been hands wrapped around his throat, but it’s enough.

“Yes,” he croaks. “For you.”

Her fingers move up his throat - millimeters from his jugular, close enough to trace the blood that’s pulsing through his skin. Caine swallows, instinct bracing him for a tight grasp and sparking white heat in his eyes - but Jupiter’s touch is light and soft, and air flows into his lungs and out, unhindered.

She traces up the underside of his jaw to his chin, and then presses her fingers to his lips, asking permission.

Caine’s teeth are sharp and ferocious. His jaws have the strength behind them to snap bones. He lets his mouth fall slack and open, and she pushes her fingers inside without hesitation.

She traces the velvet of his tongue, the points of his teeth and the ridged roof of his mouth. When she takes his tongue between her thumb and forefinger and strokes it like pulls on his cock, he moans softly around her fingers.

He is aching hard. It’s barely an afterthought. His queen will do with him as she will. There will be pleasure, when she decides it, and Caine trusts that she will.

She fingers his mouth until there’s saliva pooling around the edges of his lips, until he feels as loose and open as when she’s stretching him open between his legs. When she finally draws her fingers out, he whimpers at the sudden heaviness of his tongue without her support.

And then he yelps sharply as she takes his hard-on in her slick hands and lowers herself down onto it.

His fingers are twisting and clenching and unclenching in their bonds behind his back. It’s so much - too much, so warm and wet and welcoming as she lifts herself off him and then sinks down again - but his queen needs his service, his fealty, his loyalty, and so he just tips his head back and whines and moans and lets her use him for her pleasure, listens to her gasps and low groans as she rocks back for a better angle and the “oh, _ohh-”_ when she slides her fingers down between her legs to rub herself off. When she comes, she clenches around him and growls his name, and Caine lets himself release with a grateful gasp of _“your majesty”_ as she rides out her own orgasm through his.

She stills, and half a beat later, so does he. When she leans downward and tugs off his blindfold, he shudders with an aftershock - her hair is messy, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s staring down at him with darkened eyes that burn possessive.

“Your majesty,” he pants out again. She blinks, and comes back to herself.

“You did well,” she tells him.

The simple praise rushes through Caine like cool water. He sighs in contentment, eyes fluttering shut.

Once he’s regained his breath a little, he exhales slowly and opens his eyes again. He’s not quite ready to come back to himself yet, though. That takes a few more minutes, and Jupiter’s hand stroking his cheek in an even rhythm. When he sits up, she pulls off him to grab a water bottle from the nightstand and hold it to his lips. She unties the knots behind his back as he sucks in a few gulps, eyes fixed on hers.

He’d asked, beforehand, for one thing that he only remembers now. He puts the water bottle back and moves downward - down to the foot of the bed, where he curls up tightly. He knows, objectively, that Jupiter’s home is heavily guarded. The Aegis and her personal guard would stop just about any thread before it even touched the ground of this planet. And yet, something in his mind clicks into place, like a released sigh or a scratched itch, when he’s between his queen and the door. Jupiter tucks her feet under him as she settles in to sleep above him, and he sighs in pleasure at the opportunity to serve her, warming her throughout the night.

It’s like that - at his queen’s feet, one ear pricked in vigilance like always - that Caine sleeps.


End file.
